


The One With the Leg

by shipityouwill



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Grantaire has a prosthetic leg, M/M, also Grantaire and Jehan are bffl, disabled!Grantaire, which he does not like talking about, which isn't v relevant but ya know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:52:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4545636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipityouwill/pseuds/shipityouwill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Grantaire isn’t good with communication. Which is probably why he omitted to telling Enjolras about his prosthetic leg. And that wouldn’t be a problem if Enjolras weren’t getting on his knees in the back room of the Musain and zipping down his pants.”<br/>Aka that one time Grantaire bailed and then discussed his problems like a real adult. Kinda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One With the Leg

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm Gray. I'm Les Mis trash, and that's all you need to know.

Grantaire isn’t good with communication. Which is probably why he omitted to telling Enjolras about his prosthetic leg. And that wouldn’t be a problem if Enjolras weren’t getting on his knees in the back room of the Musain and zipping down his pants.

“Enjolras,”Grantaire breathed, grabbing at his t-shirt so hard his hand began turning white.

“Mmh,”Enjolras hummed. He didn’t bother looking up, instead focusing on Grantaire’s jammed trouser button. _God bless trouser buttons._

“Um, could you…”he muttered. _Not try to suck my dick on the chance that my pants fall down and you see that I don’t have a leg?_  Well, no. He couldn’t outright say that, could he?

Enjolras glanced up. His pupils were blown wide and his mouth hung open. Grantaire glanced at his bun when Enjolras turned down, where short blond curled were flattened with sweat. He wished he could enjoy it, but then there was still the problem of the leg, and he should probably stop Enjolras because his hand was sliding down Grantaire’s left thigh and that was _very not good-_

“Stop,”Grantaire blurted. Enjolras stilled his hand and slowly moved to rest on the balls of his feet. Grantaire was almost proud that he didn’t start crying just from the way Enjolras was looking at him.

“Are you alright?”Enjolras asked. Grantaire pressed himself harder against the wall and watched Enjolras stand up. “Grantaire, what’s wrong?”

“I,”Grantaire started, and faltered. Because really, _he was not good with communication._ “I have to go.”

Without looking at Enjolras he grabbed his bag and sped walked (no matter what Musichetta said, he was not running. Grantaire didn’t even think he could still do that) and ripped through the front room of the Musain as quietly as he could.

And then he was walking the mile to his studio flat. Then he was unlocking his door, and soon enough he was sitting in bed sipping on a bottle of whiskey and pretending his prosthetic leg was a ukulele because he probably screwed up his one chance of being with Enjolras and denial was much more fun.

So was whiskey. Whiskey was his best buddy, his good ‘ole pal. Whiskey never let him down. Well. Whiskey was currently being a very disappointing friend, what with it being empty and all that. _Stupid whiskey._

Grantaire sighed and placed the empty bottle beside his mattress. _Was there anything about this day that didn’t go wrong?_  First he ditched Enjolras because he’s a broken piece of shit, then he ran out of whiskey, and now someone was very obnoxiously knocking on his door.

Oh. Someone was knocking on the door.

“Who is it?”Grantaire shouted towards the door. He could smell the alcohol on his breathe. Which, ew. Very ew. Double ew-

“Grantaire, it’s Enjolras.”

Grantaire sighed. “Grantaire isn’t here right now.”

“Be serious, Grantaire,”Enjolras practically groaned from the other side of the door.

“Nohow,”Grantaire replied, but fitted his prosthetic back to the hump just below his knee and began shaking his way into a pair of jeans.

“Grantaire,”Enjolras pleaded,“please let me in. We need to talk.”

“Contrariwise,”Grantaire said, pulling himself up on the wall. “If we needed to talk, then we would’ve. But we ain’t. And that’s logic.”

“Are you quoting Alice in Wonderland at me?”Enjolras questioned. Grantaire walked jerkily towards the door and slipped on his shoes. _Because god forbid he let himself be comfortable in his own shitty flat._  Then again, God wasn’t really forbidding it. He was.

“That I am,”Grantaire muttered. He doubted Enjolras could hear him. And yeah, Enjolras was out there, and he should probably let him in, but staring at his door waiting for Enjolras to get bored and go away seemed like a safer option.

“Please let me in,”Enjolras repeated. Grantaire took a large breath and unlocked the deadbolt, because of course Enjolras would want to talk. Of course he would walk all the way to Grantaire’s flat in the middle of October.

Grantaire pulled open the door. Enjolras was stood leaning against the beam outside the door. His face was stern set, but his eyes seemed heavy. Grantaire looked away and stepped to the side of the door, letting Enjolras inside.

“You live here?”Enjolras said. He couldn’t have meant it as an insult, Grantaire noted, because he was currently clasping his jaw very tightly. He was right, though; Grantaire lived in a shithole. The couch he had against the wall was torn and worn down by time, and his bed in the left corner was surrounded by empty beer bottles. The only nice thing in his front area was his art easel.

“What I mean is, um, that… Grantaire,”Enjolras said quietly. “Can we please talk about earlier.”

“Sure,”Grantaire replied,”A blowjob almost happened, and then the blowjob didn’t happen, and Musichetta would have killed us if she caught us, but she didn’t, so that is one bird killed with one singular stone.”

“Alright,”Enjolras started, as if he were taking Grantaire seriously,”the blowjob most definitely didn’t happen. Why?”

Grantaire gaped at him.

“Not because I want to cross your personal boundaries- I would never want to make you uncomfortable or force you into something you don’t want to do. Never. But I want to know what I did wrong. So that next time-”

“Next time?”Grantaire questioned. _Next time?_

“-I don’t upset you,”Enjolras finished. “That is, if you want there to be a next time. Grantaire I- I don’t know why this is so hard to get across to you. I don’t know why I’m so bad at this.”

“I think I get it,”Grantaire said. He stared at his dirty carpet, because looking at Enjolras would not be good on his heart right now. _Because how do you tell a literal god that he wants to suck the dick of a broken cripple?_  Grantaire doesn’t have much experience in that.

“You do?”

“I think so,”Grantaire said, still looking down. “You wanna have coitus with me. Which we almost did, but then we didn’t, and you think that it’s your fault that I ran out on the so-called coitus.”

Grantaire couldn’t quite place the look on Enjolras’s face; his eyebrows were turned up and his mouth was scrunched like he was sucking a lemon. Which-if this weren’t literally one of the most awkward moments of Grantaire’s life-he would’ve normally found hilarious.

“Yes,”Enjolras answered.

“Well it isn’t,”Grantaire stated.

He walked over to the couch and sat down slowly, careful for his pant leg not to rise up. Enjolras followed him over and sat at the opposite end, staring at the wall ahead.

“I think,”Enjolras started,”that it is. And don’t give me that look, Grantaire; let me explain. You were obviously showing signs of discomfort and were trying to get me to stop, and I didn’t even realize the signals until I reflected on it on the way here.”

“How did you even get here?”Grantaire asked.

“Jehan gave me your address. Don’t change the subject.”

“Fine,”Grantaire huffed.

“And I wanted to front and foremost apologize for not listening to your signals and for making you so uncomfortable that you ran away from me. Secondly,”Enjolras said, turning his body towards Grantaire,”I want to discuss what happened, if you’re alright with that.”

“Haven’t we already?” Grantaire ran a hand through his curls. “Besides, it wasn’t your fault. I freaked and ran.”

“Why, though,”Enjolras pushed. “What did I do to upset you?”

“I just-I have issues, alright? We both know that, and as much as I wanted to defile Musichetta’s storage room with you, it’s hard.”

“You can tell me, you know that, right Grantaire? I don’t want to have sex with you unless you’re comfortable doing so. And if you’re not, that fine as well. Either way, I want to know if I accidentally did something to provoke-”

“It wasn’t your fault, Enjolras!”Grantaire said harsher than he planned. “It was my own stupid fault, and I sorry you came all the way over here for me to tell you that.”

“Then what was it, Grantaire?”Enjolras said softly. His hand slid towards the space between them, leaving it for Grantaire to take, if he chose so.

Grantaire ignored it.

“I can’t tell you.”

Enjolras sighed into his hands. “And why not, Grantaire? It’s not like I’m going to berate you for having boundaries.”

“Because if I do, you’re going to pity me, and I don’t think I could actually handle that, Enjolras.”

Enjolras stared at him.

“And,”Grantaire continued,”if you didn’t pity me, you’d leave me-or ditch whatever the hell we’re doing. Which reminds me; What exactly are we doing? Because you were yelling at me for dissing your coverage strategy yesterday, and today you try to suck my dick. What the hell, Enjolras?-Not that I’m upset by that change of events, but it’s very out of character.”

“Are you finished?”Enjolras asked. Grantaire nodded. “Alright. First of all, I would never leave you because of personal problems, and I certainly wouldn’t pity you. And I’ll admit that kissing you and then trying to blow you in a cafe wasn’t the best way to ask you out. But that’s what happened, and then you left. So again, I’ll ask why you left as if you couldn’t have sex with me?”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to have sex with you,”Grantaire re-explained,”because I do. Multiple times. Possibly in the Musain. Although public indecency charges are always a problem. Anyway, it’s not something I just tell people. Only Courfeyrac and Jehan know. Well, Bahorel might know. That I’m not sure about.”

“Grantaire,”Enjolras stressed,”please just tell me.”

“Promise you won’t pity me?”

Enjolras looked him in the eye. “I promise.”

“Fine.”

Grantaire ignored the look of confusion on Enjolras’s face when he got up from the couch, grabbed a pair of shorts off his desk chair, and walked into his bathroom to change.He set his jeans and sneakers on his toilet and slid on his track shorts from high school, actively trying to look at the skin color prosthetic.

And, since he couldn’t fuck up the day any further, he stepped out of the bathroom.

Enjolras looked at his legs immediately, noticing the change of clothes first, and the artificial limb second. His eyes went from confusion to sadness.

“Stop doing that with your face. You said you wouldn’t pity me,”Grantaire said quietly. The _please don’t treat me like I’m breakable_  was left unsaid.

“Oh Grantaire,”Enjolras breathed,”I would never pity you for this. I just… I don’t understand why you thought I would think or value you any less.”

Grantaire broke Enjolras’ stare by striding over to the couch and sitting on his end again.  

“Because people always do, Enjolras. No matter what, people always end up thinking of me like a plastic leg with a person attached to it.” Grantaire leaned back against the couch.

“Jehan doesn’t, right?”Enjolras said,”and he knows. Jehan understands that you’re a complex person with ideals and morals- however vague they are. And so do I, Grantaire.”

Grantaire closed his eyes and huffed in response.

“And don’t think I’m lying to you, Grantaire. Do you see me treat Joly any differently because he walks with a limp, or hell, even Marius because he’s deaf?”

Grantaire kept his eyes closed, and replied,”You always talk slower around Marius.”

“That’s because he asked me to. Grantaire, you being disabled doesn’t change how I feel about you, and I don’t believe that it’s even possible to pity you.”

“You think?”Grantaire asked, bringing his knees up to his chest. Enjolras smiled at him.

“Yes, I do. I think that all of us would still regard you the same. Because this doesn’t make you a different person. Although this does explain why you don’t go to rallies.”

Grantaire snorted. “It’s part having to stand on it all day, and part pure cynicism.”

For the first time that day, Grantaire heard Enjolras laugh. He laughed, and threw an arm over Grantaire’s shoulder. And for the rest of the night, Enjolras didn’t look anywhere but his smile.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank for reading! I'd like to note that I'm not disabled in the way that Grantaire is and most certainly didn't do a lot of research, so send me a message at sopranosingingalto.tumblr.com or comment to correct me. I'll fix any errors as soon as possible.


End file.
